Tales from Day Care
by December21st
Summary: Ever wonder what kids talk about in the Pentagon’s day care?


"Tales from Day Care"

By December21st

Fandom: Stargates SG-1 and Atlantis

Rating: G

Pairing: You'll figure it out …

Warnings: None

Summary: Ever wonder what kids talk about in the Pentagon's day care?

The woman entered her apartment, shaking a dusting of snow from her heavy winter coat before hanging it in the closet. She was in her fifties, wearing a turtleneck and plaid slacks.

"Emma, is that you?" a male voice called from the direction of the kitchen. Smells were coming from that direction, too. Good smells.

"Who else would it be on a night like this?" she responded teasingly.

"I kept dinner ready. Give me five minutes to heat it up …" Patrick appeared in the hallway, carrying a mug of hot tea. "And dinner will be on the table." He handed her the mug, kissed her briefly on the lips, and returned to the kitchen.

"So, how many today?" he asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Just two. Little girls, about five or six years old," she responded, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Any reason these two needed the top secret day care?" Patrick was turning the heat up on the soup sitting on the stovetop. Emma's rather eclectic background meant that she was qualified to look after kids at the Pentagon while their parents attended meetings.

"I'm just glad you have the security clearance for me to tell you." She grinned.

"Hey! Highest security clearance of any janitor at the Pentagon." He said, proudly, as though Emma didn't already know.

"Why do you think I married you?" She replied, smiling and sipping her tea.

"Did you meet the parents?" Patrick was checking what appeared to be a pot roast in the oven.

"Yeah. Nice set of folks. I think they all traveled here to D.C. together. No, I take that back, the General lives here, his wife and the other two flew here with the kids from Colorado or something. I got the feeling that the other couple came from further away – out of the country, maybe."

"General and the missus separated?" he asked regretfully.

"No, I don't think so. He has to work in D.C., his wife has to work in Colorado. Probably one of those commuter relationships you hear about. Get this, she's a Colonel in the Air Force AND some sort of Doctor. Doctor of what, I don't know, but a doctor all the same."

"Impressive." Patrick motioned her to move so he could set plates on the table.

"Come to think of it, the other girl's mom was a Doctor too. I think I recognized her from when I was doing security for some of the international conferences about ten years ago. This one's a civilian. Some sort of diplomat." Emma stood to put silverware on the table while Patrick pulled some green beans out of the microwave and uncovered them.

"And her husband?" Patrick inquired. "Another civilian?"

"No, another Air Force Colonel. I don't think this one was a doctor, though."

"Now, don't tell me, let me guess. With those kind of parents, the kids were spoiled brats." Patrick was ladling soup into a pair of bowls on the counter.

"No, not at all. Strong-willed, the pair of them, and smart like you wouldn't believe, but better manners than you'd expect for kids their age." Emma grabbed salt and pepper shakers off the counter and set them on the table. "Some quality parenting going on there, if you ask me. You know how most of these top secret day care kids are."

"I remember that Ambassador's daughter from last July."

"Don't remind me. My ears still haven't stopped ringing."

"Did you want red wine or white?" Patrick asked, holding up a corkscrew.

"With pot roast? Red, please," Emma told him, settling back down in her chair. "And these girls! The imagination they have! They should have kids that age writing for TV. Better than most of the stuff that's on now."

"Like what?" Patrick set the two bowls of soup on the table.

"They started talking about scary things. You know that way kids have, of making it a contest, who's done the most scary stuff. Or who's mom and dad has." Emma told him, eating a spoonful of the tomato soup.

"Sure," he agreed, sitting down opposite her.

"Well, the General's daughter, who is the cutest little blonde, just like her mom, is telling the other girl that her mom and dad used to fight ghouls."

"Ghouls? Like in Lovecraft?"

"That's right. But they don't have to anymore, because the ghouls are all gone."

"Okay, that's … good." Patrick said, shaking his head and wondering where a five- or six-year old had heard of ghouls.

"So the other little girl, this one's a brunette, takes after both her parents, she can't let that stand. She's telling the blonde that HER mom and dad are fighting wraiths." Emma explained between mouthfuls of soup.

"We're talking about a particularly spooky kind of ghost, right?" he checked.

"Right again. Only these wraith live in beehives."

"Um … why would a ghost live in a beehive?" he wondered.

"Hey, I didn't make it up. But her mom and dad are still fighting these wraiths. And if the wraith win, they'll take over Atlantis."

"So ghosts that live in beehives are trying to take over the lost continent of Atlantis." Patrick summarized.

"You got it." Emma grinned at him, eyes twinkling.

"You're right, that is quite an imagination. I'd watch that on TV."


End file.
